Just A Glimpse Through The Scrying Glass
by SheSailsShips
Summary: Something was wrong. John Mandrake was sure he had gone to bed alone, so why did he feel a warm body next to him? Then there was this sound and the nearer it got the more it could not be mistaken. The pitterpatter of little feet.


_Just A Glimpse Through The Scrying Glass_

**Summary:** Something was wrong. John Mandrake was sure he had gone to bed alone, so why did he feel a warm body next to him? Something bright shown against his closed eyelids- sunlight? But how? He kept his bedroom curtains closed. And worst of all- there was this sound- and the nearer it got the more it could not be mistaken. Why was there the pitter-patter of little feet running up and down his hall?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own ANY part of Jonathan Stroud's masterpiece, The Bartimaeus Trilogy. ( and just to be safe I don't own any part of the Family Man either )

**A/N:** And here begins a project I've been longing to write for sometime now, my first Barty fic. I've been playing around with different ideas for months, but _finally_, today I was struck with some real inspiration! Having not watched the movie Family Man ( my fav pick me up flick) in awhile, I decided to pop it in, and there lighting struck. Okay, sorry to go all Makepeace on you, but you get the idea. There was a picture of Nicolas Cage on the menu, all dress up in a suite with a look of magician like authority, and before you can say Mandrake, an idea was born. I have to say I'm most delighted to be sending our favorite magician on a trip to domestic bliss ( or otherwise...), and I hope you will too. As I stated before this is my first Barty fic, but certainly not the first piece of work I've ever wrote ( I'm an avid writer ), and I hope to capture all the things that makes this trilogy great in my fic. But- please be forgiving if I accidentally destroy a character in the process, not intentional, I swear. Okay, enough of my rambling, please enjoy and don't be afraid to drop a line, reviews are the fuel that keep me going!

**ONE:**

"_This will do you good Nathaniel...."_

_White Hall_

_11:45 pm_

Magician John Mandrake adjusted his collar, his tired feet stepping off White Hall's last marble step and onto the street sidewalk. His shoulders sagged with weight of a full day's work and his mind raced with the work left yet undone. First in the office and last to leave. Not that that's not what he always wanted. Nathaniel smiled to himself. He was everything he had always wanted to be, what were tired feet and sagging shoulders? Nothing a long hot bath in his Persian tub couldn't fix. And on that note the young magician perked up. The street beside him was relatively quiet, a few couples strolled here and there, a few stragglers still wandered in and out of pubs, he seemed to be the only magician departing White Hall at this later hour. Typical.

Upon his request there had been no limo to greet him tonight. He needed a walk, some time to clear his head a bit. The air was warm, the stars were out, why not? It wasn't very Minister like, _or _magician like, he was sure. But lately he felt he needed some space, in a space that didn't _give _him space just because it feared being cast out.

Nathaniel held his head. That was what he got. Recently, following his assent to the ranks of the great ones ( the council ), he found the groveling was endless, the sharp looks sent every time he turned his back, and the confines of his position ever shrinking. The Minister took a deep breath. He just needed to adjust, that was all. Collect his bearings. The groveling would fade, he would ignore the sharp looks, and come find his small but _elevated _position pleasantly cozy. Yeah, that was all. He had done it before, he would do it again.

Feeling secure again Nathaniel pulled out of his deeper thoughts and paid more attention to relaxing side of his walk. The further he went along, the stiller the street around him became. Space. Vast, open, stretch your arms out wide and no one to see you do it, space. It was refreshing, but at the same time a bit alien for his liking. He walked comfortably though, thinking he only had a few more blocks to go, his limo was meeting him after all. And that's when he heard it. Voices. Mandrake stopped suddenly, his long coat swishing around in a way that satisfied him greatly. Had there been anyone on the street at mid-night, it would have been impressive.

He listened intently, the dark around him somehow heightening his senses. The voices were just a few feet ahead, one was a female's and it sounded alarmed. Mandrake walked on at a quickened pace. It was most likely nothing, commoners squabbled all the time, he would take a quick glance and move on. Then came the sounds of struggle, approaching the entrance to a dark alleyway, the female voice rang clear in his ears.

"That's mine! Let go! That hurts! Watch it!"

A punch made contact. Nathaniel turned the corner just in time to see a burley looking young man stagger back, holding his face,

"Why you!-", he cried out, advancing upon a small figure shrouded in darkness.

It was one of those moments. A split-second decision needed to be made. Do something or walk away. Nathaniel adverted his gaze, looking instead out over the peaceful sidewalk that called forth his tired feet.

He had had enough playing hero. Look where it had got him. Not that where it had got him was bad.... the magician shook his head. Commoners, they were just commoners. It wasn't any of his business. It wasn't his fight..... A flash in his mind's eye. A sudden memory. A young boy, a dark and dirty alleyway, the girl who spared his life.....and took his Scrying Glass.

A frown descended upon Nathaniel's face, his hand vaguely slipped into his pant pocket, warm and rough his own handy work sat where he always kept it. His Scrying glass had never parted with him since its miraculous return. An unexpected impulse over took him, feelings of old hurt, loss, and anger initiated action. Suddenly this was revenge.

In one quick movement, Mandrake turned and faced the alleyway, his lips reciting a summons at speed. A Foliot, whose appearance was some sort of sludge monster, bolted forth out of thin air and came down on the attacker. The stocky young man shouted in shock and faster than one would have thought, ran down the alleyway where he was out of view in second, hot on his heels was the Foliot.

A small satisfied smile graced Nathaniel's lips. Quietly he uttered a dismissal. He had done his job, scared the attacker away. His attention now turned to the young woman stepping out of the shadows. The young magician froze. That face, that hair, that build. He was suddenly transported right back into his memories, ten, helpless, cold, dirty, and above him stood this girl. Noticing him her face held surprise for a fraction of a second, then it became hard and steely. The girl took a few steps back,

"I don't owe you anything", she began threateningly.

For a second Nathaniel wanted to cry out, "Yes you do! My Scrying Glass!" But it was safe in his pocket, and it wasn't her. The girl before him was about her age at the time, but now....he didn't know what she'd be like.

"Of course not", he finally answered, bewildered by what had taken hold of him just moments before. Saving a commoner over resurfacing memories? Thinking that the ten year old in front of him could really be Kitty Jones?

"I had things under control, why did you and your tight fitting pants have to strut in? Mind your own business!", the girl persisted, still edging way.

Nathaniel bristled indigently. For one he didn't _strut_ anywhere, and for two, these were _not _tight fitting pants, at least not as tight fitting as before.....

"Well I'm sorry you didn't want to be saved, next time I'll walk on by!", he shot back, too tired for a comeback on her pant remark. The girl snorted at him,

"Good", and then made to take off.

Nathaniel's impulsiveness struck again, "Wait- did he...take anything from you?"

The girl hesitated, one leg itching to run off,

"Take?..."

Mandrake drifted a few steps forward despite himself,

"Yes, he didn't...steal anything from you? Did he?"

The girl made a face, but her body seemed to be relaxing, she let the rich magician closer.

"I suppose he was trying, but like I said-"

"So he _didn't_ take anything?"

"Uh- no."

Nathaniel nodded, "Good....", he murmured. The girl observed him, finding him strange.

"Well now that your done playing hero....I'll be going", she ventured, stepping away again, only her foot caught a raise in the alleyways stones and she fell forward.

She landed hard, and in an instant Nathaniel was at her side. He tried to help her up, but she didn't want help, so they were caught in an awkward hold, one struggling to get away and the other pulling back. Finally, on her feet, the magician released the commoners arm.

She rubbed the place that he touched like it burned and glared at him through slit eyes,

"Can't you take a hint? You're more thick headed than I thought Nathaniel."

Nathaniel blinked. Not only was he delirious tonight, but also hard at hearing. He could have sworn this commoner had called him-

"Nathaniel? You okay? You went a bit peaky there. Don't look so surprised your eye's are about to fall out.....it does surprise you, right?", the girl now wore a smug grin.

Nathaniel blanched. Only one thing came to mind for the young minister was; "Bartimaeus?"

"Who?"

The world was spinning. The ground unstable. He needed- he needed- air! Just now realizing that he hadn't taken a breath since his true name had be spoken ( and quite casually at that! ), the young man sputtered, gasped, and choked on air.

"Easy now", the girl urged, delivering a couple of hard swats to his back, "You know what? Why don't we just forget about all this....", she suggested, already retreating.

"No-", Mandrake managed, whirling around on her, "You know- you know my name-"

"Huh?"

"You know-", he protested, reaching out for her like the living dead, "_My name_."

The girl shrank back,

"Alls I know is that you're crazy. Maybe it's all that work you do, messing with your mind? All those late nights, not so sharp as you used to be, huh? You know, I'm going to do you a favor after all. I didn't need your help tonight, but as it turns out, you needed mine. This will do you good, Nathaniel."

She was what? Everything was moving in slow motion for the magician. He dropped to his knees and watched her run out of sight. It didn't cross his mind to send a demon after her. Somehow he knew it wouldn't matter. Nathaniel zoned out and when he came to, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sir?"

Mandrake jumped, and upon seeing that it was his driver, attempted to compose himself. On his feet he straightened his coat, "Ah good, it's about time. Is the car ready? I have long day tomorrow and I need my rest."

"Ah- yes sir", the driver answered confusedly, gesturing to the alleyway entrance.

Nathaniel stocked forward and without a word shut himself inside the limo. The dark London scene past by outside the limo's windows without Nathaniel's notice. His feet now ached and his shoulders were hunched. This was not the night he had planned. How? How had that commoner known his name? The question burned his mind.

This was a matter of life or death, had Bartimaeus let it slip? Nathaniel swore under her breath, _that blasted demon_. But no. It couldn't have been Bartimaeus, what good did it do to tell a commoner? If Bartimaeus had _any _intention of betraying- killing him, he wouldn't waste time telling a commoner. The magician's head pounded. _He didn't understand, how could this have happened_? And it was on this note that he pulled into his drive and entered his house.

"Well it's about time. I was beginning to think you'd _never _come."

Mandrake swallowed, here was yet another thing he didn't need tonight. Leaning back casually on his couch, still in her work clothes, was none other than Jane Farrar. No doubt she had stopped in right after work. She looked up at him appraisingly, but said nothing. With any luck he looked as tired as he felt.

"Long day?", she prodded. Nathaniel, deciding to give it one last hurrah, drew himself up, ran an absent minded hand through his hair, and crossed to a window beyond the couch. Jane watched his progress, her hair falling attractively around her face.

"Actually, yes."

Jane's expression changed to something like sympathy,

"_Well then_, lucky for you I have dinner already made", she replied, her voice dropping to a soothing tone.

Nathaniel's gaze wandered over to the highly polished table at the far end of the room, two Imps hovered over it, one busy lighting a candle and the other busy lighting it's self on fire. A sharp twinge ran through the young magician's head. He was too tired for unexpected guests and dinner plans.

"_I really am tired_, I wasn't even planning on dinner", he began suggestively, staring blankly out into the inky darkness. Behind him there was the sound of shifting, and then he caught a whiff of pomegranates. Jane stood at his side. A set of alluring green eyes drew his attention from the window.

"_Really John, one would think you didn't want to have dinner with me...._"

Nathaniel looked into those green eyes with sullen reluctance, _any other night_.....

"I think-", he persisted, drawing in a ragged breath, "I need to just go to bed."

For an instant a flicker of a smile crossed Jane's face, a tiny spark jumped in her eye's, she opened her mouth, ready to agree, but....there was a finality to his tone, a heaviness set to his face. And in the next instance, the spark died, Jane stepped away. Nathaniel immediately picked up on the sudden change in mood, and whilst kicking himself for it, began trying to mend things,

"You understand of course?"

"Of course."

Jane crossed to the couch and gathered her coat. This had been a complete waste.

"Will you take a rain check?", Mandrake persisted, though it was a losing battle. Jane paused pulling on her coat to flash him a steely look....those green eyes suddenly looked a lot less appealing.

"_Sure_."

Heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor, Jane made for the exit, but then stopped. Nathaniel watched with unease. Slowly she looked over her shoulder, the candle light, though dim, seemed to swell around her, her eyes recaptured their luster, the anger around her melted,

"Until tomorrow then...."

Nathaniel felt himself grow warm under the collar, he shifted uncomfortably, this was his last chance....undo the damage....

"Goodnight...." Both candles blew out. The tension in the room expended and then settled on Jane. With snort she stomped out of the room, a second later the front door was slammed. Nathaniel sighed loudly, collapsing into his couch. He frowned. All around him, the smell of pomegranates.

_I'll treat her to lunch tomorrow, that should smooth things over....._

A sudden _clank _returned his attention to the table at the far end of the room. One of the Imps had knocked over an empty wine glass and was grinning sheepishly. The young magician's frowned deepened. His dismissal of the two miserable Imps was spoken in another great sigh. Nathaniel stood, his Persian bath called.

Completely alone, the minister was left with his thoughts, which were none to few that night. Steam rose about him and he closed his eye's, his tight shoulders began to relax, his feet propped up on the tub's edge. Maybe he imagined it all? It wasn't hard to believe after all, with all those hours he had been putting in, hardly eating, hardly sleeping.... It was perfectly normal for a strained mind to breakdown.

He must have blacked out for a moment when he approached that alleyway. How long had it taken his driver to search for him? Mandrake resolved to ask when he was finished. But he hadn't he heard voices? Wasn't that what had drawn him into the alleyway? Nathaniel shifted uncomfortable, he wasn't too sure it was normal to imagine voices. The young magician attempted to remaster himself. Surely with a strained mind anything can happen? Voices, visions, surely there were no limits with delusions?

He relaxed again, he was right. His reason always came through. He had a moment of weakness, that was all. He would sleep soundly that night and take it easy tomorrow, problem solved. A flash in his mind's eye, Kitty Jones. Nathaniel clenched his jaw. It had been over two years since her death, and yet she still haunted him. Bartimaeus didn't help either, keeping her face fresh in his mind by prancing around wearing her solemn guise.

_That wretched demon_. He would take measures next time he summoned him to prevent anymore masquerading, or so he told himself. Nathaniel glared moodily over his spacious bathroom, this was not giving the desired effect he had hoped for. He would spend a few moments longer, try and retain some relaxation, then retreat to bed....after he had a talk with his driver that is. Another flash in his mind,

_'You know, I'm going to do you a favor after all. I didn't need your help tonight, but as it turns out, you needed mine. This will do you good, Nathaniel.'_

Nathaniel stiffened. What had she meant....this delusion. Who was doing who a favor anyways? He was the one who saved her! He needed no favors, he had everything he ever needed, everything he ever wanted, he could have even had dinner with _Jane Farrar _if he had chosen tonight. She could do no good for him. This was ridiculous! Why at such a late hour must he be plagued by such thoughts? He had meetings to think about, not hallucinations. Or delusions. Or- whatever. Abruptly Nathaniel got out of the tub, grabbed a robe, and stocked into his room.

A single Imp light by his bed was the only light, flashing colors of red and blue to reflect it's master's mood. It only made Mandrake more irritated. A large window overlooked some of London, Nathaniel approached it thoughtfully. He would straighten at least some of this out, his suite pants in hand, he began to fish around for his Scrying Glass. Nothing in the right pocket. With a bit more energy his searched his left....nothing. A sudden pounding in his chest cause him to sink into his bed. He knew already as if he had known all along. The girl. It hadn't been an illusion after all, but a trap! A trap to trick innocent, generous, good hearted magicians into giving up their Scrying Glasses and-

Out of desperate need, Nathaniel took in a deep breath. Attempting to calm himself he ran a shaking hand through his short hair. For a second he tried to tell himself it was just a Scrying Glass, but that didn't work. So instead he began to reason with himself. It was his exhaustion making him react this way. Normally he wouldn't feel so violently, but tonight, his memories, his feelings, they were popping up and springing out of him from everywhere.

He needed to take control. He needed the three _S's_. _Secret. Safe. Secure. _But that was the problem. He was failing, his _secret_ wasn't _safe _so he wasn't _secure_. The girl, that _pickpocket_, she had known his name! How? Nathaniel held his face, suppressing the urge to summon every demon he was in command of and scour them about London. This was serious, but it was two in the morning. His fatigue was finally catching up to him, his vision blurred. He hardly had the energy to summon one demon, let alone all of his, and with his vision, one mistaken in his pentacle.......

Nathaniel fell back into his bed. He would sleep. He was at a dead end. Tomorrow, as soon as his first conscious thought entered his mind he would race to his pentacle. The Imp light winked out and Nathaniel let the darkness take him.


End file.
